


Stories of the Second Self: Renovation

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [9]
Category: Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:48:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: With a new normal settling into Cincinnati, Janice got involved in the booming home restoration market. Her latest restore-and-flip project presented more than she bargained for.
Series: Alter Idem [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: Renovation

Janice bought the home to restore and flip it at a greater value, but she fell in love with the challenge. Then weird things started happening. Thinking someone, is messing with her, she finds a hope chest, discovering old clothes, papers, other collectables, and a letter. Reading it causes her to panic.

"Oh my god, the Ferry Man?" Janice exclaimed to no one.

She had finally decided to drop the excuses and deal with the cabinet under the kitchen sink, when she came across the cardboard box passing as a hope chest. Everything in it stank of mildew, because the drain apparently leaked, except for the letter that seemed freshly ripped from a pad or notebook and penned.

The Ferry Man was the name given by the media and law enforcement to Cincinnati's most notorious serial killer. Joseph Laramie Kirkland was eventually caught, but not before smuggling scores of victims' bodies down the Ohio River to random places in the woods on a kayak.

At least they thought it was scores, because it was hard to tell with how he arranged their remains. DNA testing was ongoing during and after the federal occupation. The letter described Kirkland's artistic vision of taking human remains to build arches out in the woods. He wasn't flung into a rage, and didn't appear hate the people he killed.

Still human right up to when he was executed last year, he was more frightening than all the werewolves or vampires in the city.

And this was his house, from what Janice read of his letter. What disturbed her was that it was addressed to her by name.

A doorknob rattled, causing Janice to practically jump out of her skin. She whirled around to the general direction, and saw the kitchen pantry door.

She hadn't been able to get the door to open at all, and the knob felt like it was welded solid. Now, it decided to work, and work like mad. Janice backed from the pantry slowly, and fished out the taser from her purse.

"Whoever's doing this, it's not funny," Janice declared.

It might've been amusing had it been daylight and she having not just read Krikland's letter, but Janice was terrified. The city took great pains to prove to the public that Kirkland was dead, and not the walking around kind, because even the warden of the prison he was in was afraid of what might manifest within Kirkland.

The doorknob flipped back to normal as if it were under strain and suddenly let go. Yet, the door opened ever so slightly. Janice had her taser, so if she was to confront an assailant, it might as well be now. As a hardened independent realtor, she'd toughened up in post-Alter Idem Cincinnati.

Though, she wasn't crazy, and so had the taser poised as if a knife to stab with, when she carefully pulled open the door to the pantry. Expecting either a ghost or just a huge mess needing to be cleaned, Janice instead found a staircase leading down from the shelves that remained.

"But this is the ground floor," she said to herself.

Janice went to her tool chest and grabbed a Maglite before going down. Part of her rattled off the list of Do Not's from every horror movie, but she had put a lot of work and love into this house. Even the dead would have a fight on their hands before she ran from it.

Drywall gave way to wood paneling, which itself surrendered to earth held at bay with two-by-fours and plywood. Janice noticed that, if indeed this had been Joseph Kirkland's house, he heedlessly cut right through the foundation, but was mindful enough to property brace his little hobby mine shaft.

At the bottom, the corridor turned sharply to reveal a single chamber that, if Janice guessed right, was exactly under the garage with the same floor footprint. In that room Janice screamed again.

Narrow strips of skin adorned the walls, and piles of bones were on half of the shelves, all neatly separated and catalogued.

"Such a find," came a voice she only previously heard on teleconference.

Janice freaked out again, and spun around to dash for the kitchen and zap anyone in her way. Except, the man with dreadlocks and svelte business suit halted both plans with a firm grip on her wrists.

She just about threw a knee into his groin before recognizing Delane Henry, "Oh, god! What are you doing here?"

Delane seemed not to notice her as he admired the collection, speaking with that Office-Ray-of-Sunshine voice of his, "It's a remarkable find you came across. And in such a lovely little home."

"I- I didn't think you dealt in home realty," Janice apologetically sputtered out to the vampire realtor mogul, "And why didn't you knock or call out or something?"

"My apologies," Delane replied, still enraptured by the sight, "I was- drawn here, you could say. What are you offering for this place?"

"Ah, ah," Janice hadn't yet worked out a number, because the renovation was hardly half over, "I'm sure... that if you give me a day I could work out an estimate."

"Would five, fifty cut it?" Delane asked.

Janice bent slightly, unsure she heard that, "Five fifty thousand?"

"Yes, but only as is," Delane answered, giving Janice's wrists a tug as if they were lovers, "I'm sure that covers your invaluable time and craftsmanship."

"I- uh, yeah, I can write that up tomorrow," Janice stammered, and then thought about it, "Why? Did you know whose house this was?"

"I have a great understanding of spirits." Descriptions of Delane Henry ranged from eccentric to just... off, and he paced around, seemingly forgetting that he had hold of her wrists.

"Excuse me, Mr. Henry," Janice reminded.

"Oh! Sorry," Delane absently said, and let go to run his room temperature fingers down a strip of skin, "Kirkland has the strongest soul I've ever encountered."

"I get that you're a vampire," Janice prefaced, "But doesn't that bother you to be touching what's left of his victims?"

"This isn't skin from his victims," Delane seemed to correct, and pointed at the bones, "Those are, sure. But this," Delane moved as if hit with enthrallment, "Is his own skin. I gather, that's why they're narrow, so he can sow the wounds easily and not pass out. I think he did it for practice."

Janice was hit by a thought, "Did you know about the letter?"

"Only just before I came down here," Delane answered, "It appears he wrote it recently."

"Mr. Henry," Janice politely reminded, "He- he's dead, and I don't mean like-," she waved at Delane, momentarily at a loss for words, "In... you know, the old fashioned sort of way."

"But he hasn't lost his fine penmanship," Delane marveled, "Or his sense of organization. You know it's so hard to find a good artist who isn't a complete disheveled mess."

"You're kidding, right?" Janice couldn't believe she was hearing this.

"Oh no, Miss Lawrence." Delane apparently took crime scenes to a disturbingly intimate level. "I've quite a collection, you know. Spirits, I mean. But none so powerful as this. You may not have noticed, but he's been working on this house too. I think he likes your vision for this place."

"Shouldn't we notify the police?" Janice asked, looking around.

"I have an understanding with them," Delane mentioned, as though he just got off the phone with them. "They take care of their end. I handle the rest," and then suddenly looked to her, "But you needn't worry. You're perfectly safe. Once I have a firm hold on our friend, Joseph here, I'll make sure he respects your personal space and your privacy."

"What are you talking about?" Janice wasn't sure if she should feel relieved yet.

It was whispered that Delane Henry was thought to have been an Open Feeder.

"He's really into you," Delane explained, "However, he is a gentleman."

"If you say so," Janice said, seeing all the people who likely didn't have Joseph Laramie Kirkland's consent.

"My office will finalize the transaction on receipt of the deed," Delane announced, as he strolled casually along the shelves and dangling skin.

Janice felt she had been given permission to leave, and did so with haste. For some reason a wildlife documentary came to mind, as she headed up the stairs back to the kitchen.

Never run. That sets off the chase instinct.

Once out of the house and in her car, she broke down into sobs. Minutes later, she composed herself and drove off slowly. She'd pick up her tools and supply materials another day.

When she was sure at least one of the creepy guys wasn't there.


End file.
